I was a boy when I learned how to run
by hiddenwriter691
Summary: Father/Son moments. The Doctor has a gift from his father and passes it down to his child.


A/N: I was listening to the song "Teenage Rebel" by Chameleon Circuit. And the line "I was a boy when I learned how to run" just kept running around in my head. So that inspired me to write this. And I definitely do not own that song. I also don't own Doctor Who.

"**I was a boy when I learned how to run."**

The young boy grinned down at the present in his hands, a brand new pair of red Earth-style sneakers.

Celebrating one's day of birth was not common on Gallifrey, but the boy's father had just come from Earth, a planet that observed the "birthday" as one of the most special in the calendar. He had not been able to help but think of his youngest son, whose eighth birthday was the day he was set to arrive back home to Gallifrey.

"Father! These are fantastic!" The boy held one of the shoes right before his huge green eyes, so close that he could smell the canvas and plastic.

"Well, go on then, son! Try them on." The man smiled as the messy blonde-haired child scrambled to the ground, getting his fingers all knotted up as he attempted to tie the laces as quickly as possible.

"Calm down," his father placed his hands gently over the boy's fingers, taking the shining white laces with his larger fingers.

He tied a neat and tight bow over his son's skinny feet. "There."

The little boy hopped up quickly, stomping his feet a few times, his eyes sparkling with adrenaline and glee.

The Time Lord leaned down to his son so that they were equal. "Do you know what these are made for, son?"

The boy nodded happily. "I think I should try them now."

His father pulled him into a hug before setting him loose, leaning his head against his child's soft blonde hair. His people did not say 'Happy Birthday,' so he said instead, "I'm glad that you were born,—" and whispered his son's lyrical Gallifreyan name into his ears.

The name echoed through the small boy's bones from the top of his head, all the way down to his toes that were now covered in the new red sneakers.

"Now," his dad pulled away, met his son's green eyes again, and said with a smile,

"Run."

The boy smiled back and took off running out of the house. As he ran outside, he could smell Gallifrey's gentle flora and feel the heat of the suns on his back. Everything was perfect when he ran.

And so, he never stopped running.

He ran through his childhood school hallways as teachers yelled after him to stop.

He ran through the vaulted halls of the Academy when he was late for his final exams.

He ran to tell his father when he was finally called a Time Lord.

He ran when he stole a Type 40 Tardis from a museum so that he could save the universe.

He ran so far away when he killed his people, his family.

And when the pain had lessened some, he found a pair of red sneakers just like the ones his dad had gotten him on a business trip to Earth for his eighth birthday. He ran in those too.

Now, he didn't wear the red sneakers anymore. This version of him was trying to move on, as much as someone can move on with the type of pain he bears on his heart.

Yet he found himself sitting in his wardrobe today. On his knees was a pair of small red sneakers, well loved by their owner, preserved for almost a millennium by the Tardis.

There was still the dirt of Gallifrey in the creases of the soles and the red was somewhat faded by the suns of his home world. There was a single rip in the left shoe from when he gallantly hopped a fence to save a pretty classmate who had fallen and hurt herself.

Oh, how he had worn these shoes.

He had worn them even though his friends thought they were strange. They had called him "human," and he smiled, wondering what they would call him now, certainly a "human-lover."

He had worn them far past when he grew out of them, until he simply HAD to replace them.

He was shaken from his thoughts by the arrival of someone else in the wardrobe, small steps running up the spiral staircase.

He cleared his features, sniffing away old tears and running a hand through his hair.

"Dad?" A young voice called, as the owner of the voice arrived at the top of the steps. "Oh there you are!" The small boy was smiling. "Mum says we can go to a roller coaster park in the 22nd century for my birthday! Can we really? Because I've always—"

The Doctor's son stopped smiling when he saw his father looking rather downtrodden with a pair of faded old sneakers on his knees.

The Doctor met his son's eyes and smiled, trying to banish sadness from his features. "I have something for you."

The boy looked at the sneakers with confusion. "A pair of old shoes?"

The Time Lord let the shoes balance on his knees and held out his arms to his son. "Come here. I want to show you something."

The child ran forward and hugged his dad quickly, sensing the anguish in his dad's mind and knowing how he loved hugs. The Doctor squeezed him gently before pulling away slightly and resting their foreheads together.

Gently placing his fingers against his son's temples, he showed him everything. He shared with him the sights and smells of Gallifrey and the feel of the wind in his hair as he ran through the streets, and how in these shoes he took his first steps into the Academy. He let his son feel the strong warmth of his grandfather's hands as they handed the shoes to his father.

When he let his son's mind free, the boy watched his father with wide eyes. "These were _yours_?" He reached out tentatively to touch them. "From Gallifrey?"

"Yeah," the Doctor laughed gently. "And you're exactly how big I was when I got them. Wanna give 'em a go?" He offered the beloved red sneakers.

His son bounced happily as he took the shoes gently, lacing them over his socked feet quickly, with an adeptness that the Doctor had lacked as a child. He rolled his feet around in them before giving his dad a thumbs-up. "Perfect."

Suddenly, the Doctor found himself nearly knocked completely over as his son hugged him fiercely. "Thank you."

The Doctor let himself inhale the beautiful scent of his son's dark brown hair, full of time and dirt and a soft smell of childhood. He could also smell some custard leftover from lunch. He smiled. "I'm so glad that you were born,—" and like his father before him, he whispered his son's Gallifreyan name into his ear.

The boy shivered at the name, but laughed too, whispering his dad's name back and thanking him again, this time for showing him a piece of Gallifrey. He so loved the tales of the world he would never be able to see.

"I'm going to go show mum!" His son exclaimed, pulling away from his dad.

"You do that." The Doctor ruffled the little boy's hair and touched his nose. "And get some Earth dirt in those soles, eh?"

"Oh I will."

"Boys?" His wife called up to them, her voice light and happy. Oh, he loved birthdays. They were so cool.

"Coming, Mum!" His son answered, and turned to his dad. "Wanna race?"

The Time Lord straightened his bowtie and squared his shoulders, a half grin forming on his face. "Always."

And then, they ran.


End file.
